Tolstero
by scousemuz1k
Summary: To understand a word of it you'll need to have seen MW's mimimichael productions 'NCIS Tijuana: The Magic Sombrero'. See AN inside... Sort of companion piece to 'Abandoned', starring again Tony's shoulder holster... and a hat.


**AN: There's been a mad conversation going on over on Facebook NCIS: Grab Your Gear, on the subject of Michael Weatherly's mini-film, 'The Magic Sombrero' – a MimiMichael Production! He and Mimi Rogers, larking about in between shooting...**

 **This, alas, is one result, written for those who put me up to it. We decided that we should ship the hat and the holster, although it would be largely off-screen, because NCIS is a** _ **procedural**_ **, not a soap – I told you it was mad. Lots made up and assumed, since I've no idea what location they're filming at. It would help if you've read my one-shot, 'Abandoned', first. And watched the mini-film...**

 **Title by Binkeybella!**

Tolstero

by scousemuz1k

He'd looked very fine once; clean, cream coloured straw, tightly woven in a neat pattern, with a band of braided leather thongs wound in with bright strands of coloured wool, and two eagle feathers tucked into it. That was all gone now; his edges were scuffed from the times when gusts of the wind that frequently had him at its mercy sent him bowling along on his brim, and his crown was dented. He was coated with the dust and dirt of this hellish, derelict place, and he found himself wishing for the wind to return and take him somewhere else; anywhere... But when he actually wanted the unkind, laughing wind, it was away, tormenting someone else, somewhere else.

He'd belonged to a man who he knew wasn't someone he'd have chosen to belong to; his job was to keep the sun from the guy's eyes, but he'd never been blinded himself. The man had been trouble; other men came and bought stuff from him that didn't seem to make them any happier, and when Benno – and a few others - had died in a hail of bullets, the sombrero had been glad of the wind that picked him up and carried him far away.

He'd had adventures; a laughing child had picked him up and put him on, until a horrified mother had snatched him away and thrown him down. "Don't touch it! You don't know where it's _been_!" The little boy had kept the eagle feathers though, and the hat hadn't grudged him.

He'd floated down a river, past grand buildings and green lawns, where his fine band had slipped off and floated away from him, and he thought that he'd probably get waterlogged and drown. He was tired, and thinking he wouldn't really mind, but the fickle wind had blown him to shore, and once he'd dried out, he'd gone rolling down the road again.

This area, where he sat, snagged on the corner of a rusty metal table, reminded him of the run-down place where his owner had died. It had the same feeling of neglect and decay; but the man who was standing in the open space in front of the factory, or whatever it was, was _not_ like Benno. The hat knew it. He had an air of authority, decency, maybe; he didn't skulk in the shadows like _he_ used to, but stood out in the wide yard, looking round slowly, eyes narrowed.

A woman walked over to speak to him; she moved with the same sort of confidence, and like the man, she carried a gun. Hers was at her hip, in a grey leather holster that looked brand new; the man wore a shoulder holster that reminded him of the worn, pliable strands that had once wrapped around him. The hat felt a sudden pang of loneliness.

He was surprised when the woman pointed him out to the man, who looked over, and shook his head ruefully. The hat sighed. He could imagine what they were saying although they were too far away to hear. 'What's that _old_ thing doing there?' That's what he was... old...

A slight movement in the shadows under an archway caught the sombrero's attention. After all, he was used to noticing people who lurked in dark places. His attention sharpened – he saw the glint of light along a gun barrel. It was being lifted slowly; towards the woman, he thought.

He was a hat. And maybe he saw things too simplistically... but the woman, well, she seemed good to him, and the man in the shadows did not. He had no voice, he couldn't move by himself. But how could he perch here and let a bad thing happen?

He sent a smug thought out into the ether; a thought of how happy he was to be sitting here, not being blown about by the breeze, and then imagined himself lighter than air, as, sure enough, the wind gusted around him without warning. He sailed past the man's face, leading his eyes towards the archway. The man's eyes widened; he instantly shoved the woman to the ground and threw himself down, drawing his gun from the supple shoulder holster as he did so, and snapping off two quick, effective shots into the shadowy entrance.

The woman had rolled into cover behind a loading dock, and prepared to give covering fire; the man, out in the open, leapt up and ran, doubled up, to join her. As he threw himself full-length a second time, he landed on the hat, crushing him flat. Oww... Great reward for saving a life, the hat thought - until he realised how close to the holster he suddenly found himself.

A big car, the sort Benno would have called a 'fedmobile', screeched into the yard, and rocked to a halt near the two in a flurry of thrown up dirt. A silver haired man jumped out, followed by a younger man and a blonde woman; they took cover behind their car. From underneath the tall man, squashed up against the leather holster, the hat struggled to make out what was going on.

"DiNozzo! Schillin's here – he got a head start on us!"

"I know, Boss..." the man called DiNozzo pointed to the body under the arch.

The boss's only reaction was a grunt. "There any more, or d'ya just like that wall?"

"Didn't you say Schillin prefers to work alone?" the woman with DiNozzo asked.

"Did," DiNozzo snorted. "He won't be any more. He was lining up on you when I spotted him..."

He got up slowly; relieved of the weight, the sombrero tried to ease itself back into shape. It really missed being close to that holster... Excitement over, he watched as the five feds methodically swept the area; he watched as a truck arrived and a small, bustling man and his assistant took the body; he watched as the three agents got back into their muscle car and left. He watched with a sigh as the tall man slid his gun back into the shoulder holster, and he and his woman companion began to head for where their car was parked some distance away.

Abandoned... He'd done something useful. He'd done something good. He'd made up for all the time he'd sat on a bad guy's head. The wind blew lightly around him but not hard enough to move him; as if it knew how heavy he felt, how he wanted to be away from here. But he'd manipulated it once, and he knew he wouldn't be able to do it again. _'You're a fool,'_ it laughed. _'You blame yourself for something you have no control over...'_ it went on its way without waiting for a reply.

' _Tony does that too... you know, blames himself...'_ He was astonished as another thought spoke to him, andhe reached out to find where it had come from. The man was walking back towards him, and he stooped down and picked him up.

"DiNozzo..." the woman called from the car, "what are you _doing_?"

DiNozzo walked back, gently pushing the sombrero back into shape and brushing the dirt off as he went. "It saved your life, Joanne... if it hadn't blown past me, I wouldn't have seen Schillin in the dark."

"Yes... but..."

"So, I'm sentimental."

He put the hat carefully on the back shelf of his car, started the engine, and drove slowly out of the yard.

The sombrero wondered what would happen now... he felt the happiest he had since the day Benno had stolen him from a market stall.

' _That's good. I'm glad about that...'_

' _What... who are you?'_ But he knew the answer already.

' _I'm BiBi... Tony's holster. We have_ _ **so**_ _much to talk about...'_

The End


End file.
